The Life of An International Playboy

His name is Sherlock. No Ship Sherlock Shane Sepahpur to be exact.  And can that boy ever play!!! He plays with my dirty socks. He plays with his reflection in the glass at night. He plays with opossums that are playing dead. He plays with my mind. If it exists he can probably find a way to play with it. He is one of the biggest players on earth. Sorry Charlie Sheen and Tiger Woods. You just don’t have as much game.

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But what makes this dude international? Well, to start with, his father was frozen sperm from Canada flown down to Texas to be “introduced” to his USA mom’s egg. His conception started and finished in two different countries. Now unless you and your honey are going to take a blanket and a bottle of wine and find a nice spot to lay between North Dakota and Saskatchewan, good luck achieving the same multinational start to a life.

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Even Sherlock’s DNA has an international dispute to it. Many sources state the origin of the poodle was Germany where it was know as the Pudelhund – a water retriever.  However, the French absconded with the credit for the poodle saying it was a cross between their breed the Barbet and a Hungarian water dog. Germany was in no mood to go to war over the creation of the breed and let France take credit. Strangely enough, Hungary wanted no part of the debate as they were to busy growing cords on their Komondors to give a flip. So, history clearly shows the Standard Poodle as being German, adopted by the French, and shrunk down by the clever Brits. Sherlock’s genes got around Europe like the plague.

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What has Sherlock done to maintain his history of international origins? He has become a mini star across the oceans and continents.  Sherlock originally appeared nationally in his home country of the US with an odd flash during the NBC sports broadcast of the Belmont Stakes.

His second appearance was only seconds longer a British show called Dogs That Make You Laugh Out Loud. Below is a clip of him barking and reacting to the CD. What a loon!!!

That was followed up by a second US flash at fame on the Jimmy Kimmel Show.

He was back to England where the show Harry Hill’s Tea Time paid for some of his work. I am still waiting to get footage from the production company so enjoy a few pictures of him having tea and biscuits without Harry Hill instead (isn’t it sweet he is sharing his biscuits with Shasta?)

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Then the Netherlands and a T-mobile commercial was where he showed up next. Don’t blink. you will miss him.

And those were just the TV spots. Blogs picked up his video. From Germany to Brazil to the US where the AKC featured it and it was picked up by I ♥ Dogs; he was networking the net.

https://iheartdogs.com/this-poodles-reaction-to-american-pharaohs-big-win-is-amazing-have-you-ever-seen-anything-like-it/

Sherlock’s second video to go simi-viral also had viewers from all over the globe. Below is the video and a screen shot of the last of the 195 pages of countries that the video was viewed in. I don’t even know where St. Pierre & Miquelon are although Youtube says they are in North America. Over 170,000 people managed to view him getting his excitement on for a cartoon. 

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For added fun, one of his pictures was picked up by a group of Photo-shoppers. They did some really fun pics but I only manage to download a few before the link disappeared.  It seems he has spent time on the catwalk in Paris, being an awful au pair in Australian, and appearing on Broadway.

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babies daddy

broadway babie
So this playboy needed to do what international entertainers do: move to a different country other than that of his birth. So here is my German/French Poodle who is half Canadian and half American from the Untied States living in our little Mexico village where he he dines on Italian, Indian, Brazilian, French bakery yummies, Sushi, German, Thai, American burgers, Canadian poutine and of course, Mexican – which he swears tastes better if stolen from someone else plate from a hiding place under the table.

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He truly is a dog of the world!

Not Just Another Day, Not Just Another Dog, Not Just Another Dusty Chicken…

Grooming day!!! The day only day I am dog free and I can go eat at a restaurant that doesn’t allow dogs and get major errands done. I needed furniture. Specifically a sofa. My bony butt can’t handle the willow bench any more that has been the only seating option since I moved months ago to Mexico.

I first headed to treat myself to a lunch at a canine free establishment the Spoos never let me go. I scarfed down a serving of green bean and baby potato salad in an amazing vinaigrette and a steak sandwich with grilled chipotles. Then I remembered I was really craving the chicken mole at another pup banned place. Oh well – the next grooming day.

I went to a few furniture stores before I made the command call that I was going to have to go with the custom made sofa because nothing was ringing my bells. But, in the process I found “the bird.”

The Ajijic Plaza has this one story tall kinetic bird sculpture that I have loved. You can kind of see it in the picture picture of the square in the bottom near center. Not long ago I saw a smaller one at a sale but it had been purchased. I was bummed.

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I believe the bird’s head is missing. That is quite okay. I lose mine a lot. (I could not find the name of the photographer to give them credit. If you know who took this, let me know so I can give them their due.)

But what did I find at one of the furniture stores??? I have named him Cromwell. He is temporarily placed by my table sold to me by a couple because they were moving back to the States. I had gone to their place hoping to buy their sofa 🤪

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Cromwell the bird. I have not named the guy who looks like he is constipated or the horse. I’m working on it.

Celebration of finding my rocking crane called for chicken mole. That’s right. I ate two lunches in a three hour time period. Gangstas need that chow. My solution to my bony butt on the bench is to fatten up that fanny

I still had two hours before picking up the Spoos. I decided to go check out an area I hadn’t explored yet. When I arrived in Ajijic, someone told me it was impossible to get lost. If you went too far one way you hit the lake. If you went too far the other way you hit the mountains. I ended up lost…

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Here is the lay out. Mountain (I call them hills as I have spent my fair share in the Rockies,) to the North. The lake to the South. The lake is 50 miles long so I have yet to get lost and ended up on the other side of it.

…on the opposite side of the mountains. I have no idea still after staring at google maps how I did it. But, all of a sudden I noticed the mountains to the south. Ummm – the lake is always to the south. Time to pull over and figure out if Waze knew Mexico. I pulled up at the groomers right at 5:00 pm and still confused as to where I had been.

The dog’s groom looked great. So that wasn’t going to last. I got home and they went into zoomies. Sherlock went into one of his spin jumps just as Shasta hit him full force. Sherlock slammed into the edge of the steel driveway gate where it rubs on the bushes when it opens. Hence the green line on Sherlock’s hip. He went down with a horrid yelp.

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Speaking of bony butt… A few have messaged me concerned about Sherlock’s weight. He is four years old and has always been skin and bones.  I have tried everything and he has been through countless vets and testing and he has always been extremely healthy. He eats higher quality food than I do and a lot of it. If you go to the movie section of this blog you will see he burns two calories for every one he eats. I promise this is not an abused or sick dog. Just ADHD (emphasis on the H,) deluxe.

I ran over, picked him up, put him in the car, loaded Shasta, and headed to the vet. Sherlock laid still during the short five minute drive. Sherlock laying down is never a good sign.

I got to the vets (where they are also groomed,) jumped out, ran in, and told the vet Sherlock was in the car and couldn’t stand up. She went to the car with me and when I opened the back hatch, Sherlock was spinning and jumping in circles like he always does. If it wasn’t for the stain on his back end I’m sure she would have thought that I was one of the worst over-reactors on Earth. She poked it and moved it around and said to see how he was in the morning. Darn dog!

And this is where the dusty chicken comes into play. There is a roadside stand where a man grills nothing but chicken. The locals call it dusty chicken because it use to be on a dirt section of the road and the passing cars coated the chicken as it grilled making a most yummy crust. It is like crack – meat meth. You have it once and you are hooked

It was a dusty chicken that the Spoos stole off the counter after their their last groom. I was unloading everything and made the mistake of bringing the chicken in first. Spoos are smart. Together their IQ adds up higher than mine. Unless I put a roasted chicken in a vault, it will be theirs. Now, let me add that the dusty chicken comes with some roasted hot peppers and onions. When I finished unloading the dogs were not to be found. I discovered them in the back bathroom like this:

It was clear which one ate the one missing pepper and that they had both shared in the chicken. All that was found was the two onions and one remaining pepper. One thing that was not remaining was the plastic bag the chicken was in. Crud! One or both ate the plastic along with chickens and bones.  I called the vet who recommended giving them white bread and watching them for signs of a problem. They got their bread and so did I as now toast was the only thing left for me for dinner. That night I wearily crawled into bed after being on poop vigil. On my pillow was the inside-out chicken bag. They put the evidence in the last place I would see for the day. They knew my anger would be long gone by then. “I love my dogs, I love my dogs, I love my……”

So fast forward back to the day Sherlock hurt his hip and Cromwell came into our life. The vet/groomers is right across from the dusty chicken stand and the smell has lured me in every time we left grooming or vet care before. But since they ate it – bones and all – last time I had decided there would be no pollo for them that as I had left grooming the first time. But, as I looked in the rear view mirror as I backed out of the vets after his “injury” I saw Sherlock standing with his leg up looking miserable. It might not have been broken but he was in pain. He needed chicken crack to make himself feel better. I stopped for a chicken – minus onions and peppers.

It was only after we got home and dug into our treat that it hit me he was holding up his front leg which he has done since a puppy as one of his cute begging poses. I was sure I had been played.

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“Look into my eyes. You are getting very sleepy. Now count backwards from ten. When you get to one, the bacon will fall from your hands and you will have no memory of making bacon.”

Regardless, after my two lunches, I still enjoyed my share of the score. Birds win the day!

Update:

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I have named the constipated guy Congress. As showy as he is, he hasn’t done a thing since I have known him. And the horse is named A Horse With No Name because I’m just not all that clever these days. 

Tongue Out Tuesday – Words Hurt

Sherlock blogging today.

Fudge my life! Last night we were hanging out at bed time waiting for Momma Mim to do this weird thing humans do with getting ready to sleep. [If they would just turn in a circle for four or five times, lay down, and close their eyes, it would go a lot faster.] Shasta had grabbed my spot right beside Momma Mim and was shamelessly hogging all the attention. I looked and saw Momma Mim’s fingers in Shasta’s mouth.

Ah ha! Finally Momma Mim was wondering why Shasta didn’t have a lovely long tongue like mine and was digging around to see what the problem was. I stuck out my tongue so MM would have a good example to judge by.

finger in mouth

Shasta seemed to be kind of gnawing on MM’s finger and MM was talking to her in a baby voice – surely to keep Shasta from freaking on her lack of stellar tongue.  MM rubbed Shasta’s nose and her fingers when back in Shasta’s mouth.  Obviously, MM was concerned. I stuck my tongue out even further to assure MM even if Shasta was sub-par, she still had me.

second touge out

Then, MM looked at me and said, “What are you doing silly dog.”  Silly dog? Here I am trying to help and she calls me silly. I was hurt. I needed my favorite fluffy toy. I left.

sherlock leaving

As I left I heard Shasta say, “I got your spot, silly dog. Ha ha ha!” I was tempted to just run away. But then I heard MM get up to wash Shasta’s nasty slobber off her hands(my slobber is like silk and I’m sure she wouldn’t have washed it off,) the treat bag she keeps on her dresser open, and her say, “Night night time Sherlock. Come get a treat. Let’s go night night.” Being the big hearted dog I am, I forgave them both. Plus, when Shasta got up to get her treat, I got my spot back. I may be silly but I am silly smart.

So remember, words may hurt, but it isn’t anything a good bacon flavored treat can’t fix 😉

It’s In My Mouth Monday – A very good reason!

Sherlock blogging today.sherlock in my mouth blue toy

For today’s It’s In My Mouth Monday, I picked a blue springy toy that has four – yes, that’s right – four squeakers in it.  Do I have it in my mouth because it is springy? No. Do I have it in my mouth because it is my favorite color blue? No. Do I have it in my mouth because of the squeakers in it? While that is a bonus, no.

I have it in my mouth because Shasta wants to play with it. And that is the best reason of all!!!

Canine Conversations – I Rofve You!

Shasta and Sherlock chatting today.

Sherlock: Hey Shasta? Happy Valentines Day. I rofve you.

sherlock heart one

Shasta: No you don’t. The other day, you ask Momma Mim if the circus was in town and needed any brown poodles.

sherlock hate one

Sherlock: Pssst. Oh Shasta? I rofve you!

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Shasta: You most certainly do not. I took one bite of your treat the other day and you went pure evil.

sherlock hate 2

Sherlock: Shasta! Shasta!! Shasta!!! I rofve you!!!!

sherlock kisses

Shasta: No you don’t. You won’t share your toys, you hog the bed and don’t let me have a pillow, and you laugh when I pass unladylike gas……

……

……

{Sigh.} Hey Sherlock? Will you be my valentine? I rofve you too.

Shasta hearts

Sherlock: I knew it!!!!!!!!!!! You and me – best buds forever. Now, let’s go bug Momma Mim.  I’ll distract her and you steal her cookie from the counter. We are the best team ever………

BFF's

TBT: The Puppy Chronicles – Just Do It

Sherlock blogging today.

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Don’t fight it. Give into the urge. I was cute as a puppy and I am stunning as a two year old.  You want to buy me things. But you aren’t sure what such a magnificent creature would find worthy as a gift.

I will give you some help.  If it squeaks; it is good.  If it smells like it is dead, rotting, or deep fried; it is good. If it is produced by Oscar Meyer, Spam, or Chicken of the Sea; it is good.  If it bounces and fits in my mouth; it is good.  If it falls into the Rodentia order; it is good. If it has stuffing that I can rip out and spread all over the floor; it is good. If Momma Mim says I can’t have it; it is great.

So go ahead and look at that face and follow your instincts. If you don’t know where I live and can’t give it to me directly, take it to your local animal rescue. The karma will get back to me sooner or later.

What I Learned From My Dogs Today – Velcro Manufacturing Explained

Momma Mim guest blogging today.

I use to love Mr. Roger’s “how it is made” films. It is how I learned how crayons, fortune cookies, and rubber balls came to be. If I had a magic wand, everything on earth would come with an attached card explaining it’s existence. But some things are self explanitory when it comes to where it is from. Velcro for example.

It is very plain to me that Velcro is produced from shearing poodles. I am not sure where these poodle farms are – New Zealand perhaps? But somewhere there are acres and acres of poodle filled land meeting the demand for Velcro worldwide.

How am I quite sure of this? Let’s look at the evidence.  For starters, poodles are Velcro. Just ask anyone who has had one. They stick to you no matter what you are doing.

Going to the loo…

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Out on the town….

shasta at bar lapdog

Kicking back on the sofa….

shasta velcro

When attempting to do sit ups….

dogs sit ups

And not only are they attached to you every time you turn around, everything else sticks to them.  Leaves (small and large) …

shasta leafShandy leaf

Small purple flowers…..

sherlock in ear

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Not to mention all kinds of other oddball items….

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They are like dryer sheets. They stick to everything including the clean laundry….

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They even stick to each other….

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My dream is to one day be able to visit one of the poodle ranches during round-up and shearing and then watch as they make the final product. I also wish Mr. Rodgers was still around to enlighten the masses. As for now, I need to go brush my teeth while attached to my two spoos and hope the toothpaste doesn’t find it’s way to stick on them.

TBT: The Puppy Chronicles – Just Because Dad Was Frozen Sperm Doesn’t Mean I’m Cold Blooded.

Sherlock posting today.

shake it out

Just look at me – a pup born with swag.  As I sat down to write this blog post and went though the pictures, I couldn’t help but think, “some dogs are just born with it – and I am one.”  And it isn’t just the great DNA from my pedigree: I have that resplendent flare.

I began life thanks to Fed-ex. My father was a Canadian stud (as in male breeding dog and as in being hot stuff.) My mother who lived in Texas was the granddaughter of a Westminster group champion.  They never met. Thanks to dry ice, air freight, and a nice veterinarian, my brother’s and I came to be.  There were eight of us – four white and four black. But much to our breeders dismay, we all had nuts.

Sherlock litter

Because so much greatness could not reside in one place, my siblings and I were all sent to live with different humans. I lucked into Momma Mim as mine.  She had two spoos who were rescues from puppy mills, but had lost one six months before I graced her life. The remaining love of her life, Shasta, was one of the biggest darn spoos I had ever seen. The puppy mill had called them Royal Standards but there is no such thing (well, except for me – but I am Royal because of the fact that I am noble, gentle, imperial, kingly, and wellborn.) Naturally Shasta was bummed to see me because she knew the star of the show had arrived on the set. But like everyone else, she couldn’t resist my charm and I grew on her.

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The first months of training my new human was rough. I found the best way to motivate her was with the happy face.

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And that was a no brainer for me.

Path pup

Momma Mim was highly excitable at first. She would get in a tizzy about the funnest things like peeing, chewing, and singing loudly – things that come natural to every creature on the planet.  She seemed to need these things to happen at certain times and in certain places.  I have now learned all humans are OCD, and since monkeys are not allowed to have pets, I just adapted to keep things calm.

To keep this post short (there is a novel to be written about my puppy cuteness and poodle cleverness,) I will sum up that things worked out very well for what started in a deep freezer. There is a lot of warmth in my home and heart.

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I will share more puppy stories in the future – we have a lot of TBT’s to come.

Tongue Out Tuesday – The Stuff of Legends

Sherlock sharing today.

Me in my Miami

There are many things that earn me the name Super Standard Sherlock – Defender of Poodle-kind. Take my tongue for example.  As you can see from the photo above, it is epic.  My human thinks I have it out so much because it is hot here in Houston, but I am really just showing the world what a fine body part it is. In fact, it is too glorious to be kept hidden in my mouth. So, I share it with my admiring public.

I have heard of this creature called an Ant Eater that is suppose to have a better tongue than I. Let me first say, eating ants is silly. I have eaten a cockroach – was not good – tasted like the rubbish bin.  I have eaten June bugs – not bad – be careful not to get a leg caught in your throat. I have eaten moths – very tasty – wings are a little dry but the flavor is a little “taste like chicken.” But an ant? Why bother. I won’t even waste my time on a cookie crumb that small. So this critter might have a longer tongue than I, but he has questionable taste as to what he does with it.

I will let you judge for yourself as to whether the tongue pictured above is not the best darn licker you have ever seen. And if you want proof, make an appointment with my secretary and bring a jar of peanut butter. I will be happy to prove it in person.

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